I was going to call this post "parenting" but I can't because I don't feel like a parent yet. Actually, I am not sure what parents feel like. But it doesn't matter what I feel (since LuLu is nursing, I feel a gentle tickle...) regardless, I am a parent. Or maybe I can say that "Parenting, right now, feels like a gentle tickle-tug."
Or, "Parenting tastes like licorice and fennel (the main ingredients of lactation tea)."
"Parenting smells like Desitin and Dreft Spray On Deodorizer (a combination of codliver oil, talc and a cloying floral perfume)"
"Parenting sounds like the rapid, shallow breathing of a small person napping on my lap"
Parenting means I have to stop writing to burp my child.
Parenting means I haven't slept for more than four hours at a time since early March.
Parenting means I can't think of a single aspect of my life that has remained unchanged, from my secret fears (can a child hiccup to death?), to the contents of my garbage, to the items in my checkbook, the temperature of the bathroom, to the shirts I can wear, to my zip code.